The end

dearest honest dave supporters....

the chilling news is that honest dave has been de-microphoned by the good people at 'the generator' 89 fm....

my last rant took a very radical approach by suggesting that the v8 supercars to hamilton was a retrograde step that only nailed the petrol head reputation of our fair city... in my opinion we had just surfaced from the bowel of octane with the new bloomings of the rose garden when we slipped into the mire with first the arts festival 'the led zepplin' covers band and then the v8 debacle...

anyways - managment at the generator want the station to be 'pro - hamilton' and 'positive'.

as you can see... my position as social conscience of this god foeversaken place has become untenable.... so..... i apologise for the lack of honesty in your inbox.

there is however an honest 'stations of the cross' exhibition in hamilton which will be my own personal rebellion at the world at large..... though i'm not sure that i will rise again on the third radio ratings review...

minuet, v8's and zepplin

Hamilton is all about honesty. We like to keep it real. We do not try to act like something we are not. we are honest hamiltron.

Indeed, is victoria st after dark not the bogan boulevard of the waikato basin? Wot say you radio listeners ?

Instead of trying to distance ourselves from the slings and arrows of outrageous mockery for being a bunch of ill mannered motorheads as fiercly anti homosexual as te rapa strait, as black as the ace of spades as bogan as bo derek in a belmont….we celebrate it. Oh yes. We like our exhausts chromed. we like fast jap cars. we like big holdens. We like fords. We like to drive up ….. and down. we like black and van halen and slayer and pantera and acdc and stereo systems that put the o into stereo and jimmy barnes at the waihi pub. We like it loud. We are true citizens of this fair town. We like standing up and being counted and will place the counter on the dashboard for all to see how we like it counted.

And yes our mayor elect has washed his hands of ever trying to wrestle hamilton out of the savage barbs of verbal abuse we suffer on a national scale. He single handedly masterminded our cities identity as one of petrol headedness, forever I fear, and other shall never never forget. We are tainted and taunted. Hamilton the land of petrol. Where booze and fags and tight jeans is the currency of champions. Yes resource management act willing, mr mayor redman will invite a fleet of super v8’s to hamilton. It is our very own latter day pearl harbour but without the surprise. We will not lose our battleships and aircraft carriers in this calamity… no friends the honest truth is much worse… even now I sense my own soul slipping into a vacuum of self loathing and lostness as hamiltron slides into a black pit of shame, lion red and carbon monoxide.

The pits may be in mill st but the real pits is yet to be unleashed.
Other cities have culture, decorum, a sensibility. We are still obviously still standing at the pak and save of culture with an empty shopping cart waiting at the check out…….

The sign on the way out of town on morrinsville road has the words hamilton in green script on a completely black background. We are honest. We know we are a black hole and we might as well broadcast it to tourists and locals alike. Hamilton. We never pretend. We are very honest.

And there was no solace at the hamilton garden art festival. As I looked to the hamilton arts festival to restore my belief in class and virtue and a modicum of respect all is yet again lost. On the bill for opening weekend was The led zep tribute band. …yes marlbourough you might have vineyards to die for, and the international sevens tournament wellington, and queenstown the winter festival… but hamilton trumps allcomers with the led zep tribute covers band arts festival and the petrol head bogan fest in 2008 only awaits us. I do not honestly know listeners whether to laugh or cry… but im sure satan is alive and well and sometimes I hear voices whispering to me to run to the hills or scottsman’s valley or boys high gully or seek refuge in the mormon temple.

Yet I have not jumped from whitiora bridge because I know I have a friend in minuet. Yes minuet the breakbeat act will be at catalyst on march 10 for their first ever gig in the tron. The 3 piece on the cover of this months nz musician magazine, the girl with pink undies and proud, the kick ass beat merchants of joy will unleash their new album and hamiltron can at least remove the razor from the wrist, albiet temporarily, in their honour.

Minuet – march 10 at catalyst. Save yourselves listeners…

This has been an honest dave rant and minuet public broadcast on the generator 89fm

biggish wednesday

Big Wednesday used to be about surfing if my recollection serves me collectly. Collect me if I’m wrong, but Big Wednesday, released 1978 about Californian dreaming is about big waves. Free big waves. Waves that swell from the very bosom of tangaroa without a price tag. Oceanic waves of mass construction forming a playground for every santa barbarian punk with fiberglass and fins up for it. Big Wednesday is folk lore amongst the wax fraternity. Some things must remain. like don brash and saddam’s bunker. Don’t mess with

So not only did NZ Lottery commission steal a zillion dollars from all punters country wide who thought they’d have a 16 millioneth chance, they ripped a classic legendary iconic name like big Wednesday from every grommet who would prefer to flutter board than flutter their soft earned drug cash on gambling.

Wednesday used to be quite big enough thank you nz lottery commission. i liked Wednesday when it was just Wednesday. If Wednesday becomes big, then how will Monday and Tuesday and Thursday and Friday and Saturday and Sunday spose to feel. major Performance anxiety I suspect. wednesday will surely become big bully boy Wednesday once it thinks it’s the shizzle in the middle. Yep… mark my honest words…… im betting heads…. and tails, that Wednesday will get so far up itself its going to be looking right at the dawn of Thursday telling it to sod off till lunch..

Yep, before you know it big bully boy Wednesday will be trying to pay out all the beneficiaries on a Wednesday, whispering slander to all the pregnant solo mothers saying its bigger than all of pregnant porirua put together… give it another 6 months, Wednesday will be giving Friday the proverbial pants down and showing it it’s big calendar date by inviting the general nz workforce to knock off for 4 oclock drinks mid week – on a Wednesday. Within a year we’ll be sitting down to watch super 14 on a Wednesday. Soprano’s will be straight after. Christmas will be on a wednesday, the 25th or not. Good Friday will now be Good Wednesday and Wednesday will walk like Audrey Hepburn, laugh like winstoned peters, and speak without grace about his mother like eminem. Big styles indeed.

I just think the nz lottery commission has no right to fruit around with the days of the week. Yes Hollywood can screw the most macho stereotype known to mankind, and clint eastwood, and fixate gay cowboys at the ‘im ok - your ok’ corral. But to put a prefix, a lame adjective like ‘big’ infront of Wednesday – that’s gone too far. We stick sir in front of peoples names so their given some status. Putting big in front of Wednesday only puts it in the big sale at the warehouse category. Not really something at all really. Why didn’t they just prostitute Wednesday fully and call it ‘big ups’ Wednesday and pimp it up and down fort street in fishnet stockings. Honestly.

Lets reserve ‘big’ for people who need to be called ‘big’ – like 72hr water boy big norm hewitts bro, and like big greedy amy from small town nz.

…oh yes, this week amy our big lucky loser steals 40$ of chicken from the local butcher. butcher watches the film and can’t identify the big girl. butcher gets a still photo and puts a sign in the window ‘lucky shopper wins prize’ . our big chicken stealer enters the shop to claim her prize, gives her big details and is referred to the local police department real slow cos you can't never lose a loser like that. That’s big.

So…congratulations to the lucky winner in thames trying to remain anonymous with a new Porsche and range rover in the carport…. Good onya…may you make poverty history. And May the nz lotteries commission learn that big isn’t always better and that Wednesday is happily Wed thank you very much indeed. K-noth.

You’ve been listening to another honest rant on the generator 89 fm

hamaster blaster - the new rule in the east

Sometimes strange things just happen. On Wednesday night, 6.05 pm approx I rammed a car from behind. This car was making a left turn, she was slowing and turning. …. I looked right to see also the road clear, and begin to follow her left turn.

Alas - I hit the brakes, but her vehicle looms stone cold – frigid, stationary, immovable. Not going anywhere. Stopped, stopped at an intersection… so I rammed her good. I bulldozed her like I was driving a bulldozer though i was only driving a diesel van which sometimes makes me feel big and muscular like van desiel. I rammed her good because she stopped. I got out feeling big and muscular and spitting tacks. She got out, She showed me the stop sign that happened to say stop… . I felt less van dieseil and gave her my details. She said her insurance company would get in touch with me…. Which probably won’t be to say that I’ve won a prize.

If I was a heart surgeon selling freaken truckloads of psuedo ephredrine in telfast boxes for 25, 000 dollars an hour I would probably see the funny side or at least the paranoid delusion but I use it only for medicinal purposes


As for the cops..they always go on and on about how 18 year olds always think there bullet proof behind a car. Well, my van was at least 18 years old right, and it was right behind the car and its not looking too bullet proof now. Bullet proof hilarious - A blue nissan sedan wasted it for goodness sake, officer honestly!

Sometimes you don’t know if your insured until you crash. sometimes you don’t know your pregnant until you have sex. Sometimes you don’t know you’re a vegaterian until you eat meat. Sometimes you don’t live until you die. Sometimes you have never heard the sound of one van crashing – until you crash.

When you crash, there’s that post coital moment of insured uncertainty - you’re not sure whether to think bugger with a little b or BUGGER spelt with a big B. ‘im pretty sure im not 3rd party and I’ll cry if I want too’ was the song I came to hum.

In a less important intersection in middle east politics, last week palestinians engaged in democracy –yes, democracy the golden egg of the bush administration, and voted up a terrorist organisation. Hamas, the ku klux klan of the east, now have the power of the people as well as plastic explosives. The US were not sure to think bugger with a little b or howl from the white house to tel aviv BUGGER with a capital B.

And Hamas showed signs of being really shy - they do not recognise israel. Which is pretty sad really considering their neighbours – but then I wouldn’t be able to recognise my neighbours – all I know is that their scottish, over 60 and they drive a black car. And can you recognise your neighbours? Obviuosly hamas and israel can get along.. they probably just need a diner for 6 or something, or oprah but here’s the honest dave middle east peace plan.… a road map if you will.

Palestine just needs to buy a dog, a white dog preferably, it will escape, as dogs do, and then you’ve got an excuse to go round the other guys place. Palestine will then be able to recognise israel all because of a nice dog called ‘jihad in the name of allah’,

I really do think world peace is attainable. Coca cola tried to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony and failed. but now we have the techonolgy it is attainable, the time is now. Sony playstation singstar is the answer. Where there is singstar there is love, joy and peace. Don’t make poverty history – make playstations more affordable.

You have been listening to an honest dave rant on the generator – 89 fm.

Pania of the Reef

The season of christmas makes everything a little intense… and not having a chrisco hamper to unravel the tension, the season of festive
stress just continues. You can tell those citizens who have a chrisco
hamper sorted by courier don’t you?? they walk like ones who have a hamper up their khyber… all happy and laxadazy bubbly and ready to bust out the christmas mince pies without having to battle at pak and save on christmas eve… they just walk differently…

Oh to be hampered and pampered by chrisco – christmas just highlights the have nots and the have s, and the hampered and the unhampered. I am unhampered.

Not having a chrisco hamper coming to your doorstep can make you do abnormal things. A man from napier, unhampered and desperate said to himself if I can’t have my christmas mince pies and leg of ham I’ll take the next best thing… which of course was pania of the reef. Nothing like a bit of reef fishing but this girl is the kingi of the brass icon world… pania of the reef. Topless. Brass. Exotic. Stationary. What more could a young single bloke with no christmas chrisco hamper ask for. Well unfortunately, and the judge who gave the lad a year behind bars agreed
with me, he should have asked first. And not just taken pania, or at least he should have put a little money aside each week like good chrisco people do…

Some people have complained about the severity of the punishment. But the judge maintained it was fair because it was taken without asking, and pania is a city icon to napierites, and therefore an especially painful loss to all the city’s citizens – especially those not receiving a christmas chrisco hamper.

So if you get a year for stealing pania of the reef, a mythological figure, yes, albeit a topless mythological figure, but still only a mythological figure. A story about a girl and a reef.

Riff raff, of rocky horror fame, also brass, also a city’s icon – what would you get for stealing that – an icon of immeasurable recognition world wide, of immovable cult status, a celluloid screen sensation, a fishnetted statue of transsexual titillations, so fairy it doesn’t need fairy lights, more mince than a christmas mince pie, even at christmas .

yes listeners, honestly, even as we speak, young riff-raffian ruffians of bryce st and beyond are practicing their criminal motions…. Its’ just a boltcutter to the left, and a crowbar to the right….

But what would you get for hauling off hamiltons rocky horror icon. My guess is you’d get the clap and be locked up for 2 years, maybe 18 months with good behaviour. Riff raff is Hamilton tourism triumph.. Most aucklanders I know of are planning a round trip through hamiltron to their coromandel destinations in order to pay their riffspect to the big riffster…

Im just surprised really….i don’t want to be the next dave dobbyn inciting civil disobedience , but I would have I thought another tortured un chrisco hampered young person of no fixed payments put aside all year would have hacked the sheep down north end Victoria st for sure. That would have been a class addition to any nativity scene.

And so this is christmas. We remember the christmas story. Mary was hampered in a way even chrisco could not imagine. Her hamper arrived as a boy, some call the messiah the saviour of the world. An angel gave her a good credit rating and god in his infinite wisdom fixed her up real good.
An immaculate conception, a problematic delivery…. christmas is really about surprises… the queens message on tv one, a pregnant jewish 14 year old misses out on a chrisco hamper but gives birth to a messiah. You never know your luck…

This has been honest dave’s christmas message.. to you and you and you on the generator. 89 fm…

taxi santa knob

people of the honest cyber world.... prepare for your christmas message:

"I do not believe in santa."

These words were spoken with conviction by my son this week. He is a 6 year old and he has seen the light, or at least the closet where mrs honest has been stockpiling toys from farmers all year.

My boy now does not believe in santa. He is a non-believer….

I wonder if when he turns 7 he will not believe in the bush administration.

Maybe when he turns 8 he will believe that this world is harsh and cold and lonely and there was never any weapons of mass destruction and that he’ll never own his own home and maybe he will want to believe in santa again….

One has mixed emotions when one’s fraudulent mythology about an old ho hoing red person brandishing a sack full of mass consumerism, the story transferred dutily from father to son, cultivated after festive season after festive season until the lie looks like truth is forceably dismissed in the child’s mind. Father Christmas, Donald Rumsfield, Ronnie Phillips – I guess all these voices in our heads have got to go sometime…..

The problem with a lack of belief in santa is that now a lame present can no longer be blamed on those bad evil elves who possess imported tools of muck metal and lack lustre quality control. ‘Bad elves’ I say when the look on the child says the present has gone pear shaped. Now, I have to confront my retail demons and own the present. It’s a pity my kids will get gift vouchers for the rest of their sorry ‘I don’t believe in santa’ lives…

This week in fair Hamilton a taxi driver has, bless him, kept the ‘christmas spirit’ alive by wearing a santa hat as he taxi’s around the streets. His taxi bosses have shat on the hat though, no festive shabbie cabbie thankyouvery much and said no siree butch…which is his real name. Hamilton taxi’s stance on the reality of santa is unclear… but it’s clear they think butch might be illegitimate and have banned him from wearing the hat whilst in their employment.

Butch claims Christmas spirit has been fingered.
i say never trust a man called butch.

If Christmas spirit is a taxi driver wearing a red hat then a guantarnamo bay detainee wearing red electric terminals clipped to his or her nipples transferred in the dead of night, to european airport destinations is obviously… he he he… in the spirit of American hospitality. Butch – Christmas spirit does not mean wearing a silly hat mass produced by a small asian non-fiction elf in a sweat shop out back northern Vietnam. No siree butch. any weirdo can wear a red hat.

Christmas spirit butch, is driving dishonest drunkards, glue sniffers and keyboard players residing outside the national bank in commerce st, a ride home without a tariff. Oh yes Butch, you would taxi the road less taxied and travel it often… a chariot for the unchosen few…

Christmas spirit butch…that’s his real name… would be taxiing the city looking for a little jewish family who might look a little dazed and confused realizing that the gaza strip on london street next to fire cats is not their promised land, might possibly have a donkey for baggage, nobody’s asked them to their work do at valentines, their eftpos is efted and isn’t accepted at hamiltons’s finest accommodation, the little jesus fulla is crying, and the only freaken place they can stay in is a empty motel on ulster street.

(As this is a modern day telling of the Christmas story the closest we can get in all realty to the feral stables and rude animals and inferior living conditions of the nativity in Hamilton is ulster st – the land of those bleedin’ boy racer motorheads and chronic noise pollutionists who haul up and down racing their engines like demented pigs on heat. no ones stays in dem motels anymore….)

and so Butch – your Christmas spirit is so token it needs to be placed in a milk bottle. And the next person who serves me in a retail outlet degrading the holy festive season of Christmas with fake reindeer horns I will truly pray for their soul.

You’ve been listening to another honest dave rant on the generator

all black nonsense

Good morning listeners…

Last night I was taunted by a generator listener who said I never ranted about the all blacks. So as not to appear that I have only one testicle and a penchant for non contact sports – this morning’s rant will be on the all blacks.

However, I must confess that a rant about the all blacks will not be a marty devlin analysis and when or if I use the word maul.. I will do so without knowing exactly what it is apart from the fact that it will sound tough. Maul.

The all blacks have just completed a grand slam. A grand slam is like a grand piano. In our case, the black keys kicked the proverbial aesthetics of the white keys. The white keys are so plundered by the black keys they remain silent. This is a grand slam. Grand of course comes from the latin root grandis – meaning large. So we can gather then that for the all blacks to win over these huge rugby nations such as Ireland, wales, Scotland and England – it’s very large. Large. Slam of course comes from the playground where it’s known colloqually as a body slam – to hurt the weak fulla that knicked your play lunch from the cloak room. Maul.

Anyway.. grand slam. Way to go all blacks. I wonder though if our hammering on about us being fanatical about rugby is really true…. For instance, honest dave has an all black banner with a small adidas logo on trade me. Now, you’d think a black banner, 3.9 mters long by 1.6, with the words all blacks is every new Zealanders wet dream. Especially considering 2011. Its mint condition. Well… people prepared to be shocked….maul. A banner such as this for a mere 50$ went unsold on trade me. Un sold. Its back this week, and still I only have one watcher and has only been viewed by 78 people… the auction closes Sunday. I don’t want to be an all blacks atheist but.. I have grave concerns about media representations about a country obsessed with the all blacks when a holy grail item on trade me has to get relisted. Maul.

… next week I am putting a nuclear reactor on trade me to see how many bids that gets. That’ll tell us for sure if we really are an anti nukes country wont it… maul.

Honest dave did get up in the early hours of Sunday morning for the grand slam. … my motives though are fairly dishonest for such an honest one as i. What I really get up for is the childhood fantasy of pikelets at half time. My honest mum would always hit the frypan, not too worried about grant batty’s intercept or missing brian Williams kick a penalty from our 22. She wouldn’t care if she missed sid going’s latest hair cut. Yep – she just delivered pikelets at half time with strawberry jam and cream. Needless to say that these days my half time culinary nostalgia, the warm pikelet almost palatable on my tongue is harshly deconstructed by the sharp doof of the toaster handle. Maul.

Anyway… way to go all blacks. Maul. Grand slam. Maul. I watched the English game though. It least it was close. And it least the all blacks hugged each other…. I try to wake my 6 year old son for this part. there such healthy role models. Grown staunch blokes giving each other cuddles. I also try to get my son to go to sleep when the haka is on where they slit their own throats. This no 6 year old should see. I mean he had nightmares after watching aussies sing waltzing matilda.

As for the aussies voting against us for the world cup. Must have a short memory those Australian brothers of ours... let me say just one word to you knife in the back, transtasman traitors of Tasmania and beyond,

Gallipoli…

…and maul. Too. I forgot to say. maul.

You’ve been listening to a soft soccer player’s all black rant on the generator..

no compassion on victoria st.

Good morning listeners....

Honest dave sympathise with the lovely Meter Maids this morning. A meter maid employed by the hamilton city council had a shocker in the main street of hamiltron. Queen Victoria her self would have rolled in her royal grave, rolling in sheer disgust at the absence of victorian manners shown to this parking enforcement officer who lay collapsed on Victoria st.

yes..... the waikato times says that for at least 30 seconds a collapsed officer of the parking meter, lay unattended on our street. 30 seconds.

Now we all know what victoria st is like on a tuesday. It's pedestrian mayhem. It's like new york just without the yellow taxis, hispanics, african americans, red indiansand decent bagels . Its like tokyo with out neon. Its like the que at the bottom of the eiffiel tower on a sunny french day in june... it's pedestrian mayhem.and to be definitive the waikato times said.. and i quote... 'there were people around'

honest dave this morning will attempt to calulate how many hamiltonians could have possibly passed the parking officer... and to reenact the collapse on the footpath ..something not too dramatic bit i will definetly lly horizontal with heavy breathing on the street.....right outside the casino entrance, .. sam will check his watch for 30 seconds and we will ascertain the number of pedestrians that could have, that COULD have, that had the POTENTIAL to aid the fallen officer on the pavement of victoria st on tuesday. Righto. Im gone....

(at this point sam the gen dj narrates from studio window as the 'non-action' unfolds)

(post note... 5 people walked past me.... even a woman walking behind me, even though i collapsed in front of her!! it took a minute before a council garden worker came to my aid)

there could be several reasons why nobody came to the aid of the meter maid.

1.Maybe its because people associate meter maids with food. Parking enforcers seem so hungry to deliver tickets and people are normally stung with a ticket after parking for a coffee that after 10 seconds of lying on the pavement most people knew that the parking officer would be inedible and unhygenic. Let me remind you hamiltonians that parking officers are not food. The 10 second rule does not apply to them. They may be picked up after 10 seconds.

2 maybe people thought it was some new tactic by the HCC for increased parking meter revenue. Agressive, proactive meter taxation. Maybe some thought it was a plan to distract and to deploy citizens from feeding the meter. The theory is this - coupled with 2 way radio, the fallen metermaid is told to collapse just as another warden stakes out a citizen in that pivotal posture where the right hand plonks in the pocket hoping for the chinking of suitable coinage. People who watch too much television late at night may have thought the collapsed meter maid was in deed a decoy.

3.Perhaps people thought they were on hood st, not victoria st. There are lots of hoods on hood st and a some citizens may not have wished to be hoodwinked into aiding a potential robber dressed as a meter maid.

4.Maybe they thought that because meter maids own the pavement and the parking meters and the road next to the pavement, they want to have a small smoko break-slash-collapse on the pavement.. then so be it.

5.Maybe people thought that, through the harsh lessons of experience, the only way to relate to a meter maid was to write a letter. Maybe all those that saw the fallen mater maid hurried to whitcoulls and began to write letters of sympathy not forgetting to explain the 4 reasons why they were unable to assist on this occasion and it wont happen again, yours faithfully, hamilton citizen.

6.maybe people had flashbacks of hamiltons very own commonwealth walker who suffered dehydration near the finish.....and remember the turmoil of les mill, standing right beside him - If he touched him, our NZ walker would be disqualified. This is an unlikely scenario though as meter maids always carry water on their person.

Honest dave apologises on behalf of all by standers on tuesday knowing that to bystand without byhelping when somebody is bycollapsing even when someone is emplyed by the HCC, to enforce parking bylaws and even if you are bi or hetro, there is no excuse to belie her grace queen victoria and all that she stands for on victoria st. word.

we finish this rant with the NZ musician most likely to collapse indeed on any street, not neccesarily victoria st, with Jordan Luck singing 'victoria'...

you've been listening to honest dave on the generator....89 fm...